A Summer with Me, Myself, and I
by Another Sarcastic Teenager
Summary: Bad-boy Nicholas 'Fang' Granger has been playing girls since the time he was practically in diapers. However, when his…tendencies land him on yet another tabloid cover, his publicist has had enough. No girls all summer or else. Too bad old friends who've grown up in all the right places are going to make that very difficult.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. Got it?**

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"Nick! Get your sad, pathetic, ass out of bed!" Upstairs, a disfigured and lumpy shape gave a muffled groan that the woman who called out for him supposed might actually be an answer.

"Nick! GET UP!" There was another grunt and the figure rolled over and glared blearily at the ceiling.

"Why are you still in bed? It's almost noon!" The grumbled noises slowly began to start sounding like words, none of which were appropriate to repeat around small children or priests.

"NICHOLAS LEE GRANGER GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT OF BED AND DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT THIS FREAKING MINUTE!"

"Fine!" Nick finally roared back in exasperation. He fought with the black sheets that were tangled around his legs and midsection. When he was finally free from the fabric, he stumbled over to his dresser, tripping constantly in his dark room. Black furniture and covers, black carpet, black curtains drawn across the windows, and the midnight blue walls at his mother's insistence that 'Not everything be so dark and depressing Nicky-dear.' He grabbed clothes (black) and stepped into the bathroom.

When he was done doing his miscellaneous bathroom related activities, Nick wound his way through his labyrinth of a mansion and into the kitchen. He didn't even acknowledge the chef that placed down a plate full of breakfast in front of him, he just blearily started eating. As he shoveled what he assumed was some sort of egg that was prepared in a fancy way, the angry woman from earlier appeared. Red hair flaming, square glasses pushed all the way up the nose of her bridge, and her hands placed angrily on her hips. Oh that is not a good stance.

"Nicholas Lee Granger," oh that was NOT a good tone. Not Good Stance + Not Good Tone = Bad Things for Nick.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Fang, Brigid?" Fang asked through a mouthful of some weirdly colored fruit. It might have been a melon, Fang wasn't sure.

"And how many times have I told you that the name 'Fang' is not an appropriate name for a teen idol sensation?" Brigid shot right back. Fang scowled but didn't bother talking anymore. He had food to eat. "What's this?" Brigid asked angrily, pulling a chunk of paper from behind her back and throwing it on the table in front of Fang. Fang picked it up in one hand while he started chugging orange juice. He studied it through half-lidded eyes with a pronounced and only slightly exaggerated yawn.

"It appears that Jen is cheating on Billy with Ryan and that someone named Phyllis is pregnant again."

Brigid rolled her eyes and ground out tightly, "Flip it over."

Fang grunted and flipped it over. "Oh hey look it's me."

"It's not just you," Brigid spat. She grabbed the magazine and started flipping through it pointing at all the pictures of Fang. "It's you, you, you, and YOU."

Fang gulped down the rest of his orange juice and asked, "So?" Brigid gaped and glared for just a few moments.

Finally she sighed. "Nick, do you know how many times you've been on the cover of a tabloid with some random girl in the past month alone?"

"A few," Fang shrugged nonchalantly.

"Seven times with seven girls Nick! Seven! Do you know how that makes you look?"

"Epic," Fang finished for her with a cocky smirk.

"Wrong!" Brigid snapped. "Bad. Really, really, BAD, Nick."

"Why?"

"You're getting a reputation for being a player and it looks bad," Brigid said matter of fact.

"So I like girls but for a limited time only, what's so bad about that?" Fang asked grumpily. Although, that's what he normally sounded like, so it wasn't like there was a whole lot of difference.

"Nick," Brigid said with a sigh running a hand over her face. "I'm going to put this in simple terms that you'll understand." Fang quirked an eyebrow at his publicist. "If I see your face on a tabloid with a girl before the release of the band's album, you're out of the band."

Fang's easy-going nature vanished immediately. "You can't do that," he spat at the red-haired woman.

"I can. I talked with the Band Manager and he agreed to all my terms," Brigid sounded more than just a little smug.

"But the album isn't released to the public until September!" Fang sputtered. "That's three months away!"

"Not my problem," Brigid shrugged, a victorious smirk on her face.

"But Brigid!" Fang protested.

"Not. My. Problem!" Brigid shouted.

"What am I supposed to do the entire summer?"

"Go to Hawaii?" Brigid suggested with a grin and a smirk.

"Brigid," Fang practically begged.

"No Nick. You've got to learn that you're a grown up now and you've got to be held accountable for your actions," Brigid said sternly. Fang was so furious that he couldn't actually formulate a response anymore. Brigid smiled. She'd taken Fang's silence as acceptance. "I'm glad you understand Nick. Enjoy your summer." Brigid walked out of Fang's mansion and into her car.

Fang was left at his kitchen table breathing heavily in an attempt to keep from lashing out. His hand was shaking so much that all the food that he'd loaded onto the utensil dropped back to the plate. Fang threw his fork and knife down in frustration and pushed his chair back with an angry scrape. He stalked down the hallways and quickly found his way toward his homemade gym. A quick change of clothes later and he was angrily wailing on a punching bag.

After thirty minutes, Fang was tired. With a final roar and a punch that had the bag swinging on its hook, Fang finished up his workout. A quick shower later and Fang was scrolling through his contacts absent-mindly. As he flipped through the many names, he noticed that a large amount of his contacts were females. While normally he had absolutely no problem with this, with his current situation, it was less than ideal.

Before Fang could dwell on his contact problem for too long, his phone started ringing. A quick look informed him that it was one of his best friends and band mates, James Griffiths, or as Fang knew him, Iggy. _Out front, buzz me in Mr. Grin_. Fang rolled his eyes and jogged upstairs to the control panel.

He pushed the intercom button and asked into the microphone, "Someone buzz in Iggy."

"Certainly sir," the gate attendant replied immediately.

Not even two minutes later, Fang's garage door was flung open with a loud bang and an equally loud voice proclaiming, "I am here, you may begin worshiping at will."

"Hey idiot," Fang said with an accompanying eye roll. Iggy, in his pale fair-haired glory, was practically the opposite of Fang. Iggy was happy and talkative and could make friends with most anyone, while Fang only really talked around people he knew. Their friendship often baffled people to no end, but they were best friends without a shadow of a doubt.

"What's up buttercup?" Iggy said with a flirtatious smile. Fang blew a raspberry at his best friend and flopped down on an overstuffed couch, the fluffy leather giving way to his weight easily. "What's wrong?" Iggy asked, slightly more serious this time. Something was obviously bothering Fang.

Fang pursed his lips and with a deep breath started explaining everything to Iggy. "So according to Brigid if I get caught on the tabloids with a girl before the release of our album I'm out of the band." At the end of Fang's announcement, Iggy was silent. Fang was stewing in his angry juices, waiting impatiently for Iggy to contribute to the rant inside his head. Hopefully it would be something along the lines of 'That bitch, how dare she?' However, Iggy didn't say anything.

Fang narrowed his eyes and finally snapped, "Well?"

Iggy narrowed his eyes right back and said tersely, "You deserved it." Fang's eyes flew open wide. When he knew that Iggy was coming over, he'd assumed that Iggy would contribute to his side of the argument.

"What the hell does that mean?" Iggy crossed his arms and folded them across his chest. He trained his pale blue eyes on Fang intently.

"What do you want me to say Fang?" Iggy finally asked.

Fang snapped, "What do you mean what do you want me to say? Why don't you just agree with me?" Iggy leaned back on the couch opposite Fang, his arms stretched out across the back.

He smirked at his best friend and said, "Because I think that Brigid is right."

"How?" Fang exclaimed angrily.

Iggy leveled Fang with a hard glare. "You treat girls like absolute shit Fang."

Fang rolled his eyes and groused, "So?"

"So Fang," Iggy drew the words out dramatically. "Sooner or later it was bound to get you in trouble."

"But Iggy," Fang practically whined. "What am I supposed to do for an entire summer without girls?"

Iggy shrugged and said, "I don't know."

"Well what do you do in your free time?" Fang groaned.

"Usually I'm helping you dump all the girls you've been stringing along in _your_ free time." Fang glared at Iggy and was about to start insulting him. However, before he could really get going, Iggy stood up. "Look, I've got to go Fangles." Fang glared at the nickname. "I only stopped by to see how you were doing and if you had any plans. Obviously you don't so come by my apartment in a week and we'll checkup."

"Where are you going?" Fang asked curiously.

"I've got a date," Iggy smirked at Fang. "See you later, Fanganator." Fang watched Iggy walk out the front door, a Gatorade he'd snagged form the fridge in his hands, disbelief evident on the darker of the two's face. Usually he'd be the one with a date to head off to and Iggy would be staying home.

Fang flopped further into the couch and turned his massive television set on. He started aimlessly flipping through the television channels, searching for something, anything, to watch. It was going to be a LONG summer.

* * *

With his shoulders slouched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Fang knocked on the door to Iggy's apartment. He had been bored out of his skull this past week. There had been absolutely nothing to do and he had no idea what he was going to do for the next two months and three weeks. Fang was brought out of his musings by Iggy opening up the door that Fang had been banging on with an exasperated expression.

"Would you stop it?" Iggy asked crossly. Fang smirked right back and pushed his way past Iggy.

"You got any food?" Fang asked needlessly as he already had the refrigerator open and was rummaging through it without an answer.

"No, sorry," Iggy said, not sounding nearly sorry enough in Fang's opinion.

"Why don't you just hire a guy to keep your food stocked?"

"Why bother?" Iggy asked with a shrug as he sucked a water bottle dry and tossed it into the recycling. "I'm the only person who lives here. And I like doing things myself, unlike Mr. Mansion," Iggy teased Fang lightly.

"What else am I supposed to do with all that money?" Fang asked curiously. "And it's not a mansion. It's just a rather large house."

"Right," Iggy snorted. "And a Great Dane is a rather large Chihuahua."

Fang rolled his eyes and stretched out on Iggy's couch, his arms folded behind his head. "Where're the Gasman and Dylan?" Fang was of course referring to the other two members of their band. The Gasman, or Gazzy as he was sometimes called was the youngest in their little group. Dylan was Fang's age and Iggy a year younger.

"They left on vacation two weeks ago," Iggy informed him incredulously. "They'd been talking about it nonstop for like a month throughout all of band rehearsal. How the hell did you not hear them?"

Fang shrugged and Iggy rolled his eyes. "What are you up to Ig?"

"I'm leaving in a day. Which is why I have no food," Iggy said slowly as if explaining it to a very small child.

"What!" Fang sat bolt upright and stared at Iggy with wide eyes. "You're all leaving me?"

"Yes Fangles, we're all leaving you," Iggy sighed at Fang's dramatics.

"What am I supposed to do all summer all alone with no girls?"

"We've been over this like a million times Fang," Iggy sighed again.

"But I thought you three would be here to help me through this tough and trying time!" Fang exclaimed.

"Bite me," Iggy had had enough with Fang. He had a bag to pack. Iggy was all set to leave Fang's pitiful butt behind in Los Angeles but he just looked too pathetic. "You can come with me if you want," Iggy sighed.

Fang's entire face lit up and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Iggy sighed, a content smile on his face.

* * *

**HeeHee, so I might have started a new fic. I couldn't help it! Every time I tried to write for my other story, this idea kept nagging me. What else was I supposed to do?**

**I know the band thing is kind of overused but I really want to try my hand at it and see if it turns out any good. Guess we're going to find out, huh?**

**You know the drill, write your review and let me know what you guys think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing all Maximum Ride rights go to James Patterson. **

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Iggy yawned slightly and stretched as he rummaged through the overhead bins. Opposite him in the aisle, Fang was stretching as well. When Fang was done, he winked dramatically at the flight attendant. Iggy didn't bother hiding his prominent eye roll. For the past hour and a half he'd been stuck listening to Fang flirt with every flight attendant on the plane. It was disgusting and it took everything Iggy had not to throw up.

Before he and Fang had been up in the air on a nonstop flight into Grand Rapids, they had been bombarded nonstop by adoring fans in the Minneapolis airport during their layover. While normally Iggy was always willing to sign anything and everything that a fan would give him, he drew the line at a girl asking him to sign her boobs. And Iggy's breaking point had been reached multiple times in the airport.

After the fourth request, Iggy had given up and hid in the bathroom until he and Fang's plane was set to leave. At the appointed time, Iggy had snuck out of the bathroom and crept to the departing gate. He'd been completely successful in sneaking past the hordes of screaming fan girls as they shouted at an impassive Fang. Fang was very good at ignoring the screaming girls. He didn't blink twice when they tried to attack him, or grab him, or kiss him, or do other miscellaneous crazy obsessive person things. Frankly Iggy wasn't quite sure what they did.

As Iggy exited the plane after dragging Fang away from the flight attendant, he took a deep breath and exhaled dramatically. "Smell that Fangy-poo?" he addressed the black-clad boy standing to his left. "Do you smell that delicious Michigan air?"

"It's airport air Iggy," Fang said bluntly, checking his phone and flicking through the texts he'd received while up in the air. "I'm pretty sure it's recycled."

"Shut up," Iggy said in good nature. He was excited to be home, it had been far too long.

"Why didn't you just stay in California and get a tan like a normal person?" Fang griped.

Iggy shot Fang an incredulous look before gesturing at himself. "I'm pale as an Irish albino Fang. How in the heck am I supposed to get a tan?" Iggy teased. Fang rolled his eyes and Iggy grinned back widely. The airport at Grand Rapids was big, but it wasn't nearly as packed as LAX had been, so neither Iggy nor Fang was too concerned with concealing their faces. They nodded to the few fans that recognized them and signed a few sheets of paper. Luckily, Iggy wasn't asked to sign any boobs, so he was happy to oblige the star struck girls.

A couple of sandwiches from the airport Subway, a couple bags picked up at the bag carousel, a handful of autographs, and a rental car later, and Fang and Iggy were cruising down the Michigan highway. Iggy threw his hands up in the air and let out a whoop as the wind whooshed past them, tossing his hair to and fro in a strawberry blond rat's nest.

"Two hands on the wheel," Fang spat tightly, his hand gripping the door handle with white knuckles. Iggy looked at Fang and roared with laughter. Fang had changed in many ways when they'd become famous, but his driving habits were habitually the same. He drove exactly the speed limit, turn signal at all times, eyes straight ahead unless checking mirrors, and hands at exactly ten and two. No exceptions. And it drove him nuts with how cavalier Iggy was behind the wheel. "And did you have to get a convertible?"

Iggy laughed again. "You always say that I need to spend my money," he said with a cheeky grin. "I choose to use it for a bright yellow convertible. Deal with it."

Fang rolled his eyes and smirked at his best friend. "Man, why aren't you more excited to be back home?" Iggy asked curiously.

Fang glared at the rolling green Michigan country side and asked, "Well why are you so excited to be here Iggy?"

"Nuh uh," Iggy shook his head childishly. "I asked first."

Fang was quiet for a few moments, trying to think of a suitable comeback that Iggy was sure he wouldn't come up with. "We spent so many years trying to get out of this town and now we're going back for our vacation? Seems a little twisted to me," Fang finally said. Well. Iggy certainly hadn't been expecting that.

It made sense of course. Fang, Iggy, Gazzy, and Dylan had grown up together in a small Michigan town of Stone Creek. Iggy had loved Stone Creek. He loved the small family owned shops and the quaint feel of knowing everyone in town. Fang hadn't. He loved LA where nobody knew anyone and he was just a face in the crowd.

Iggy was brought out of his memories by Fang snapping his fingers in Iggy's face. "Hey man, snap out of it," Fang said sharply. Iggy shook his head once for good measure and stuck his tongue out at Fang. "Don't look at me like that," Fang said, leaning back in his car seat with his eyes closed. "You're about to miss the exit."

Iggy looked up and realized that his irate best friend was quite right. Immediately to the right was the exit sign that led into Stone Creek. Iggy barely managed to get out a, "Hold on!" before he yanked on the steering wheel hard. The car jerked to the right and Fang and Iggy slid to the left.

"You idiot!" Fang shrieked as the car practically skidded while Iggy slammed on the breaks. Finally the car slowed down on the exit ramp and Iggy stopped at a stop sign. Fang was breathing hard, grasping the door handle with both hands in a death grip and his face contorted. In between haggard breaths, he gasped out, "Where… the hell… did you… learn to drive?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Iggy wrinkled his forehead in faux confusion. "That move works all the time in Mario Kart."

"Mario Kart?" Fang let out a sound that sounded far too close to a girlish shriek for Iggy's comfort.

Iggy winced slightly and said, "Do me a favor and never make that sound again." Fang smirked at Iggy and the rest of the ride was spent bickering back and forth between the two best friends. Some people (AKA paparazzi and crazy, obsessed fan girls) might marvel and question what Iggy had done with the real Fang, but Iggy knew the truth. Around his friends, Fang was just as chatty as everyone else. It was around people who were just trying to get closer to them for the band's publicity or use him when Fang clammed up and glared.

"Oh, lunch break," Fang said, pointing to a McDonald's they drove past.

"Nuh uh," Iggy shook his head. "There's no way I'm eating greasy fast food that I could've gotten back in California. Nope. We're getting greasy food at the diner we used to hang out in during middle school."

"The old Ride Diner?" Fang asked in surprise. "That place is still open?"

"Last time I checked," Iggy responded with a shrug as he took the first left into town. Heads turned as Iggy drove down the narrow streets in his bright yellow convertible, one arm thrown haphazardly out the window. Iggy smiled to himself as they passed the familiar stores and restaurants of Iggy's childhood. A few new places had opened up, but much of it stayed the same and Iggy was glad.

Over on that corner was the ice cream and candy shop, Powder's, that he and his group of friends used to go every Saturday to get their sugar fixes. Over there was the sporting good's store, the Score Board, that sold anything and everything related to sports where they used to go mock the employees. Iggy remembered the horrible tacky uniforms they had to wear, the referee shirts with black and white strips that made them look like zebras. And over there on that comer with the old fashioned lamp posts was where Iggy broke his arm skateboarding when he was eleven in the most epic skateboarding crash ever known to the sleepy town of Stone Creek with his two best friends.

Thinking back to those times made something in Iggy's heart pinch. Back then, there had been absolutely no pressure. They weren't trying to produce a number one hit. They weren't trying to meet creative deadlines for their publicist. They were just a couple of kids with hand-me-down-garage-sale-worthy instruments banging out half-decent tunes in Iggy's garage. Iggy missed those times, not that he didn't love where he was at now. It was just… different. Not a good different or a bad different, just different.

"Where are we staying," Fang's voice broke through Iggy's thoughts yet again.

"Mom's house," Iggy responded shortly as he neatly pulled in front of the diner into a parking space.

"You're really going to spend your summer in the middle of nowhere in your parents' house?" Fang snorted in derision. Iggy shot Fang a glare as he turned the car off and stepped out of the car.

"Shut up and let's go get some hamburger that'll probably clog my arteries and give me a heart attack while I wait for the bill," Iggy said with a grin as he rubbed his hands together gleefully. Fang shook his head at Iggy, but followed him into the old time diner nonetheless. As they swung open the door, a bell tinkled loudly, announcing their arrival. There were very few people in the diner; they must have just missed the lunch rush, so Fang and Iggy had their choice of tables. Slipping into the booth in the back corner, Fang and Iggy said nothing to each other as they just observed how little the diner had challenged. There was the same peeling vinyl, the same music playing softly, and the same menus.

"This place hasn't changed at all," Fang stated the obvious as he scanned the menu.

"Why would they change?" Iggy asked with a snort.

Fang glanced at Iggy quickly before saying, "I would think that the whole health craze would have reached this part of the country."

Iggy rolled his eyes and muttered, "Why fix what isn't broken?" Fang didn't respond and the rest of the time waiting was spent refamiliarizing themselves with the menu. Finally, a girl that Iggy recognized immediately came out.

She was shouting at some guy named Mario in the back about how "If he wants to apologize, tell him to come say it to my face the little coward!" With her eyes closed in frustration, she turned around and faced the table, smacking her gum loudly and her hands on her cocked hips. "Hello my name is Monique and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?" she repeated in a bored tone.

"Wow Nudge," Iggy said sarcastically. "I love the enthusiasm." Nudge's eyes flew open wide and she looked at Fang and Iggy in absolute shock. Her mouth was open wide and Iggy had the disgusting pleasure of seeing her wad of gum wedge in the corner behind her teeth. "Nudge?" Iggy asked in concern when she just stood there gaping. "Nudge?"

"Dude, I think you broke her," Fang chuckled. Fang's laugh seemed to bring Nudge out of her reprieve and she let out a loud shriek. She sprung forward, ending up half in Iggy's lap, and squeezed the living daylights out of him.

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!" she shouted, her words streaming together in a never ending flood. "I can't believe you guys are really here! Ohmygosh!"

"Good to see you too Nudge," Iggy wheezed as the younger girl had yet to release him from her death grip. "Do you think you could-"

"How have you been? How's being famous? Why haven't you come home earlier? How's Los Angeles? How long have you been in town? Who else have you talked too? Have you seen the new-"

"Nudge!" now it was Fang's turn to cut Nudge off. "One question at a time! And let go of Iggy, he's starting to turn a little blue."

"What?" Nudge looked towards the pale boy in confusion and saw that he was indeed starting to turn a peculiar shade of blue. "Oh gosh Iggy, sorry!" Nudge jumped off of Iggy and watched sheepishly as he sucked in a few deep breaths.

"It's okay," he coughed. "How've you been Nudge?"

"Same old same old," Nudge waved her hand flippantly in the air. "It doesn't matter! What matters is how the two stars of Stone Creek are doing?"

Iggy's face darkened for just a moment before he brightened up with a grin once again and he said happily, "It's been really cool Nudge. You wouldn't believe some of the things we've done."

"No I wouldn't," Nudge said with an odd facial expression. For the next hour, Iggy, Nudge, and Fang caught up with each other, swapping their current going on's. Iggy and Fang told Nudge all about Los Angeles, what being in a band was like, what it was like to have screaming fans, and everything in between. Nudge's edge of the conversation was noticeably shorter. She kept it basic, who was looking pretty serious, who had graduated top of their year in high school since Iggy and Fang had left when they were still juniors, and who had moved away years ago. After eating two greasy cheeseburgers that were cooked exactly how Iggy remembered them, Iggy started looking around.

"Where's Jeb?" he asked eagerly. Iggy noticed Fang perk up at the mention of Jeb Batchelder. Jeb had been like a father to them when they'd lived out here. He gave girl advice, helped them with homework, and let them stay past closing attempting to cook a birthday cake for their best friend that ended in a spectacular mess all over the kitchen. If there was one more person that Iggy wanted to share his success with, it was Jeb.

At the mention of the restaurant proprietor, Nudge's face fell. "You two don't know?" she whispered.

Iggy's eyes narrowed in confusion and he asked, "Know what Nudge?"

At Nudge's look, Fang repeated Iggy's sentiments slightly more urgently, "Nudge. What don't we know?"

Nudge gripped her hands tightly together and said, "Guys, Jeb passed away two years ago." Iggy felt something stop in his chest.

"Jeb's dead," he parroted numbly. He felt like his heart had dropped to his stomach and that his mouth had gone dry as he repeated the information robotically. Neither man said anything as they waited to regain their senses.

"How?" Fang finally managed to croak out.

"Cancer," Nudge said shortly. "He never said anything but Jeb was pretty sick for a really long time."

"Oh," Iggy said softly, looking down at his clasped hands resting in his lap. "Oh."

"I'm sorry guys," Nudge said gently, resting one hand on each of the guys' shoulders. "I'll be right back." She got up and left Fang and Iggy alone for a moment.

They sat in stunned silence for a few moments before Fang finally mumbled, "I can't believe Jeb's gone."

"Me neither," Iggy said softly.

"I always sort of thought he'd be there forever," Fang admitted. Iggy nodded mutely and they said nothing else until Nudge came back, two milkshakes in her hands.

"Here you go guys," she set them down and withdrew three straws from her apron pocket. "Strawberry for Iggy and chocolate with two straws for Fang," she smiled at them. Iggy grinned weakly at Nudge for remembering what they used to order all the time when they were kids hanging out at the counter with their feet dangling off the stools. She even remembered Fang's two straws. "How long are you guys in town for?" Nudge asked, trying to take their minds of the hard news she'd just delivered.

"All summer," Iggy answered in between sips of milkshake with his eyes closed in bliss. There was no other place that made milkshakes like Jeb's and Iggy had missed the strawberry goodness.

Nudge smiled happily and chirped, "Great!"

"Hey Nudge, where is everyone?" Fang asked curiously.

"School silly," Nudge giggled. "They don't go on break for another week."

"Oh," Iggy and Fang said together, drawing the word out. That made sense.

Nudge laughed again, "Which means you have a solid five days until you're swarmed by hormonal teenaged girls. Have fun!"

The bell above the door tinkled and a woman shouted from the back, "Monique! Table 7! Chop chop!"

"Sorry guys," Nudge said apologetically.

Iggy waved his hand in the air and said, "Don't worry about it Nudge. Hey, we'll catch up with you later okay?"

Nudge nodded enthusiastically as she moved to go help the new customer. "See you guys later," she called out over her shoulder as Fang and Iggy left, their dinner money on the table and a sizeable tip as well. The car drive over to Iggy's parents' house was silent as both Iggy and Fang reflected on their thoughts. Finally, they pulled up in front of the normal looking house with blue shudders. Iggy grinned giddily, practically bouncing up and down in his car seat in anticipation. Fang was noticeably more calm than his compatriot.

"You did remember to call and let your parents know we're going to be staying with them right?" Fang asked as he started to get out of the car. Iggy froze mid-bounce and winced. He knew he'd forgotten something. Fang froze. "Oh please tell me you're kidding me here Ig."

Iggy smiled pathetically and said, "Whoops?"

"You're killing me Iggy," Fang groaned. "Well, let's go surprise your parents." Iggy nodded and was back to his enthusiastic self.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see us," Iggy said firmly with a nod to himself. "Besides it's not like they can say no to their own flesh and blood."

* * *

"ABSOLUTLEY NOT!" Well. Apparently they could. Fang groaned and looked at Iggy. Iggy gave a half-hearted shrug. How was he supposed to know that his parents were leaving for a month long vacation to Florida this very day? Really, that was just rotten timing.

"Well, Plan B time," Fang said scathingly.

"Yup," Iggy agreed. However, Iggy didn't elaborate and just stood there, looking around.

"Iggy," Fang said, deceptively calm. "Out of curiosity what IS Plan B?" Iggy stood there for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "You're kidding me right?" Fang said through clenched teeth.

"Of course I am," Iggy said disdainfully. "I've totally got a plan." Iggy totally needed a plan.

* * *

**And that's a wrap! Alright, so what do you guys think Iggy and Fang are going to do? I want to know! Anyway, you all know the drill. Review and let me know what's going on, okay?**

**Also, did anyone else find Nevermore really out there? Like it hurt my head. What's going through JP's mind I wonder? Cause that book was... interesting. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. **

**Also, fair warning this chapter has rightfully earned its T with its language. **

* * *

"This," Fang spat the word out of his mouth like it was vinegar. "Is Plan B?"

"Well it's not like you came up with anything better," Iggy said defensively, his arms crossed across his chest in a defiant gesture.

"Iggy," Fang said slowly, as if talking to a daft child. "We are standing in front of a rundown motel."

"Yes we are," Iggy agreed.

Fang sighed and said angrily, "We're rock stars Iggy!"

"Since when?" Iggy asked sarcastically.

Fang growled softly before shouting, "Rock stars don't stay in rundown Super 8 Motels!"

Iggy snorted and waved his hand flippantly in the air. "Of course they do." Fang opened his mouth to start arguing when Iggy interrupted again. "Especially when the only other option is to go around asking random people to stay in their house. So yes. Rock stars stay at Super 8 motels."

"Is there really no other option?" Fang asked, desperate at this point.

"No," Iggy said firmly.

"Nudge?" Fang was practically begging.

"Nope," Iggy shook his head. "I already asked and she shot us down without blinking."

"My folks?" Fang really was desperate to ask if they could stay with his parents whom he had a rocky relationship with at best.

"No Fang," Iggy said shortly, implying there was no room for argument. "Besides this is only temporary. I put in an application for an apartment and they said they'd get back to me in like a week. So this is just until then."

"Only a week," Fang repeated, eyeing Iggy wearily.

"A week," Iggy nodded in confirmation.

"Alright," Fang caved with a groan and Iggy smirked in victory. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it," Fang said warningly.

"Oh shut up," Iggy said with a grin as he started lugging his suitcase over to the elevator. "This is going to be fun!"

"You and I have very different ideas of fun," Fang grumbled more to himself as Iggy was jamming his thumb impatiently on the close door button in the elevator. Fang rolled his eyes and jogged over, sticking his foot out to stop the doors from closing. Iggy stuck his tongue out at Fang and pouted dramatically in the corner of the elevator.

"You're acting like a child Iggy," Fang pointed out, a hint of amusement finally creeping into his voice. Iggy heard the change in tone and he waggled his eyebrows at Fang.

"This is going to be fun!" Iggy proclaimed again. Fang raised an eyebrow skeptically but said nothing else.

* * *

"Dude, what the hell is a jicama?" Iggy asked Fang who was leaning moodily against the grocery cart.

"I don't know," Fang snapped in irritation.

Iggy brought the potato looking object up to his face and sniffed at it curiously. "Smells like dirt!" he proclaimed proudly.

"Good to know," Fang said with an eye roll. Iggy nodded absently and brought the round thing to his face again. This time, instead of sniffing at the thing, he licked it. "Are you kidding me Iggy?" Fang sputtered as Iggy smacked his lips contemplatively.

"Tastes like dirt too," Iggy said matter of fact.

Fang slapped his hand over top his face and asked sarcastically, "No really?"

"Don't be like that," Iggy grinned as he tossed the dirt potato in the cart. "This has to be the first time you've been out grocery shopping since who knows. Enjoy yourself!"

"Iggy," Fang's words were clipped and tight and Iggy finally stopped goofing around and looked at Fang with a quirked eyebrow.

"Fangles?"

Fang narrowed his eyes at the nick name and growled, "Iggy!"

"Princess Fang?" Iggy's sense of self-preservation had apparently remained behind in Los Angeles.

"Iggy!"

"Fang-a-licious!"

"I give up," Fang groaned, his head sinking to his arms folded on the shopping cart.

Iggy thrust both hands into the hair, the traditional peace sign being waved everywhere as he shouted, "Victory!" Iggy's sense of humility also remained behind apparently. Fang looked around quickly, looking to see if anyone was watching. When he realized that it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday and that the only people that were going to be in here were stay at home moms and dads, Fang relaxed marginally.

"What's got your panties in a wad?" Iggy asked curiously as he grabbed three boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch off the shelf and tossed them into the cart.

"I just don't want to be here," Fang said with a scowl. "This place hasn't changed at all."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Iggy sounded slightly bitter, but Fang couldn't find it in himself to care.

"I left a full-staffed mansion to come back to a small, backwater, town where you can't sneeze without everyone and their brother finding out about it. You're right Iggy, I should be happy and chipper as hell," Fang said, sarcasm dripping off his words like honey.

Iggy turned fully around, his glare pronounced and pointed as he reminded Fang, "And this place is your home. Much as you loathe admitting it, everything this town is made you who you are. So stop hating it and just enjoy your summer for once."

"Fine," Fang scowled even deeper than before. "Oh and Iggy," Fang remembered what exactly he was trying to remember what he was supposed to ask Iggy.

"Yes Fang?" Iggy responded with an exasperated sigh.

"Why have you been filming everything I've been saying with that stupid camcorder?"

"You just now noticed?" Iggy snorted slightly as he tossed an ungodly amount of ice cream and chocolate syrup into the cart.

"Shut up," Fang snapped, irritable again.

Iggy turned around, his camcorder in hand, as he said to both Fang and the camera, "I'm filming this summer and posting regularly on our band website. Brigid and the manager thought of it. It's supposed to keep our fans excited and pumped for the release of our album and since we'll be out of prying paparazzi eyes, they want up to keep everyone updated. Also, there sort of a betting pool on you."

"Betting pool?" Fang asked curiously. "For what?"

"If you can really stay off girls the whole summer," Iggy replied with a mischievous smirk. "Odds right now are NOT in your favor my friend."

"Oh kill me now," Fang groaned as he softly hit his head on the side of one of the food shelves.

"Oh can I really?"

"Shut up Iggy."

"You hurt me so."

"SHUT UP!"

* * *

"So, Fanganator," Iggy asked lazily, his feet in the air and his various appendages hanging off the bed at odd angles. His camera was currently on, the infuriating red light blinking away as it filmed Fang from its upside down position. "What exactly is your plan for the summer of no girls?"

Fang scowled at Iggy but answered anyway, "I've got no idea. Any thoughts?"

"Well, I would suggest that you just relax and write music, but we all know how that will turn out, so that one's no good," Iggy chuckled. Fang scowl deepened and his ears turned slightly red.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, Iggy had a point. Fang was no poet or even really a song writer. He could belt lyrics out all day and night and make any half-assed song sound epic, but he couldn't write his own. And it wasn't even from lack of trying. Since he and the band had first started out, Fang had tried again and again and again to write a song, but he just couldn't do it. Iggy and Dylan were the song writers and Gazzy could match their lyrics pretty easily with music. Fang usually just sat in the corner and looked pretty.

"Why don't you just meet up with all our old friends and see what everybody's been up to since we left," Iggy finally suggested.

"Maybe," Fang sighed.

"Oh!" Iggy exclaimed, jumping slightly. He ended up in a pile of limbs tangled on the bed and it took him several moments to struggle out of the human knot he'd put himself in. Fang looked expectantly at Iggy, wondering what had him so worked up. "We could go egg Lissa's house!"

Fang's curiosity vanished and his face turned dark. "No," he spat. "I want nothing to do with her."

"Come on Fang!" Iggy whined.

"No!" Fang snapped shortly, signaling the end of that discussion.

Iggy rolled his eyes and turned the camera to his face. With a fake philosophical face, he said seriously, "Princess Fangles has some unresolved issues with Lissa."

"Iggy!" Fang roared as he threw a pillow and a shoe in quick succession at Iggy's head.

Iggy let out a rather undignified squawk and flattened to the ground shouting, "Take cover!" Fang rolled his eyes and stalked out the door of Iggy's motel room, slamming it loudly behind him.

"Drama queen," Iggy mumbled as he switched off the camera now that Fang wasn't around.

Iggy smiled broadly as he leaned against the sink, his toothbrush still wedged firmly in his mouth. Today he was going to go get caught up with Nudge again. Today was her day off and they had more to catch up with than one lunch get together could possible cover. "Fang," Iggy shouted while he pounded on the door to Fang's motel room. "FANG!"

The door was suddenly yanked open to reveal a rather irate and sleepy looking Fang. His dark hair was even more disheveled than usual and his eyes were lined with red and puffy. "Dude you look like shit," Iggy said bluntly. He supposed he probably could have phrased it better and sounded a little more concerned, but too late now.

"What do you want?" Fang growled, an intimidating glare accompanying his question.

"I'm going out with Nudge today; would you like to join us?"

"No," Fang slammed the door in Iggy's face and he could vaguely here him shuffling around on the other side. Iggy's good mood wasn't put off by Fang's crappy early morning moods. In fact, his general grumpiness seemed to almost make Iggy grin wider. With his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his sweatshirt, large framed sunglasses hiding his pale eyes from the sun, and a baseball hat on with the bill pulled down low, Iggy stepped out into the sunlight. He inhaled dramatically as he revved the engine.

"I love the smell of gasoline in the morning," he said to no one in particular. When Iggy stepped into the old Ride diner, Nudge spotted him and made her way over immediately.

"Come on Iggy!" Nudge said with a wide grin. "We've got stuff to talk about!"

"We?" Iggy chuckled as Nudge tugged aggressively on his hand to the booth he and Fang had sat at yesterday.

"Oh shut up," Nudge grumbled with a grin on her face nonetheless. "Now back to where we were yesterday…"

* * *

An alarm clock blared loudly. A tan hand snaked from underneath a twisted pile of limbs and blankets. "Damn it turn that thing the hell off!" a voice from the other side of the apartment shouted through the not thick enough walls.

"Oh shut up Amanda," the owner of the tan hand snapped.

"Don't be so bitchy Maxie pad," the other girl snapped. "Just turn it the hell off. What time is it anyway?"

Max rolled over and landed with a loud "Oof!" as she landed on her back on the ground. "Ouch! What the hell is down here?" Amanda finally gave in and yanked the blanket off from over her head in her attempts to block out her roommate's loud awakening. Max heard her stomping around her room and jerking the door to Max's room open and letting it bang like thunder back on the wall.

"Turn. It. Off!" Amanda ground out as she kicked the prone form of Max.

"Ouch, knock it off bitch," Max groused. She finally managed to drag her cell phone off her night stand and hit the alarm button. "There, happy?"

"Very," Amanda spat, stalking back to her room, slamming her door dramatically. Max rolled her eyes and sluggishly started moving around her room. Despite what their interaction might suggest, she and Amanda were surprisingly good friends. Just not in the mornings.

In the kitchen Max shoveled a granola bar, the ones she bought specifically with peanut butter and chocolate, into her mouth and grabbed one of her many college sweatshirts off a hook by the door. Although San Francisco was in California, it wasn't even sort of warm at 5 in the morning, Max knew from experience. With her headphones in and the volume cranked up loud, Max got started on her five mile run. An hour and a half later, Max was jumping into the shower, her sweaty Stanford sweater in a crumpled ball on the bathroom floor. About halfway through rubbing shampoo into her hair, Amanda started pounding on the door.

"MAX!" damn that girl's voice could carry. "Are you almost done?"

"No!" Max shouted back over the sound of the shower.

She was rewarded with a few seconds of silence before the knocking continued. "Max! How much longer?"

"Damn it Amanda, go away! Go and throw your glorified rock or something!" Max didn't have to see Amanda's face to picture her expression and the accompanying eye roll.

"Who shoved your pole up your ass?" Amanda snapped like Max knew all too well that she would.

"Oh shut up!" Max shouted back as she finally went back to showering.

* * *

Amanda grinned to herself outside the bathroom door. These arguments were far more common, though they held far less malice than the one this morning did. Max and Amanda were both studying at Stanford and spending the beginning of summer in one of Amanda's parent's many apartments.

Amanda and her family were loaded and thought nothing of having an apartment in the crazy expensive city of San Francisco. When Amanda had found out that her parents were going to be gone all summer, she immediately offered Max to stay with her in the month long gap between graduation and when Max would be flying back to her home state. Max, being at Stanford purely on scholarships with little money to her name, had jumped at the opportunity.

The two had met on Stanford's Track and Field team, Max doing the pole vault and high jump while Amanda was in shot-put and discus. The two had similar senses of humor and instantly hit it off the first day of Hell Week, or Conditioning as most upper classmen called, freshman year and they had been fast friends ever since. It was very rare to see one without the other, especially at track meets.

Amanda wasn't happy that Max was flying out of San Fran in about two hours, but she wasn't going to make a huge deal out of it. She knew that it had been a long time since Max had seen her family the last being two Christmas's ago since Max had had an internship over summer and had spent last Christmas with Amanda and her family to save money.

When Amanda heard Max come out of the shower, she called out, "Dumbass, are you packed?"

"Yes I am bitch, thank you very much," Max shot back with a grin. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel and her clothes were slightly damp. "Now let's get going. Don't want to get stuck in too bad traffic."

Amanda rolled her eyes and went to grab her keys. Max was weird about driving. She had something against cars apparently. She got around mainly walking or riding on a skateboard and if the destination was too far for that, she'd ride on her motorcycle. Amanda was fairly certain that Max had her license, she had just never seen her use it.

"Damn, what'd you pack, cinderblocks?" Amanda wheezed as she hefted Max's bag into the trunk of her car.

"Don't be a weeny," Max shot back, though she too was struggling to get her bag into the trunk. When both bags were situated and Max's backpack at her feet in the passenger seat, they started off to the airport.

At the security point, Max and Amanda both paused. "Be safe and smart Dumbass," Amanda chided the other girl, only half kidding.

"Yes mom," Max said with a laugh. Amanda stuck her tongue out and hugged Max tightly.

"Text me when something interesting happens Max," she whispered into Max's hair.

Max's chest rumbled with laughter. "It's a small town in Michigan Amanda. Nothing interesting ever happens." With one last hug, Max was off into the airport, waiting impatiently to board her plane back home.

* * *

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Whoops? Oh well, you all know the drill. Review and let me know what you think, okay?**

**As of right now, I've fixed the fact that I swore I put in line breaks but apparently I did not. Whoops. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Deal with it.**

* * *

Max stepped out of the terminal and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent. The airport smelled of musty shoes, spilled coffee, and a slight under scent of antiseptic. Still, Max breathed in again, savoring the Michigan air behind the airport smell. The pure air of Michigan. Or was that the heavenly aroma from the Cinnabon stand?

One Cinnabon stop and a phone call later, Max was leaning up against a pole by baggage claim. She flicked through her messages, of which there were a lot. At least twenty of them were from Amanda, demanding that Max let her know that she was on the ground. With a smirk, Max quickly sent back 'On ground at baggage claim Mom. Not mugged.' Barely seconds after Max had clicked send, Amanda texted back. 'Good. And don't type at me in that tone of voice.' Max rolled her eyes and shoved her phone in the pocket of her sweatpants.

As Max was looking around, she heard someone say none too discreetly, "Oh my gosh what is she wearing?" Max quirked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at two girls, maybe 16 years old. They wear both wearing incredibly tight clothing and high heels, their faces caked in makeup. Max took a look down at what she wearing; a baggy pair of grey Stanford track and field sweats pants, and a t-shirt from a track meet that Max didn't exactly remember. She had a lot of t-shirts like that. Her wavy blond hair was thrown up in a careless ponytail and her face void of makeup. Max rolled her eyes.

If she was going to sit in a cramped airplane seat for who knows how long, she better be damn comfortable while doing it. As Max was about to retort, her phone started buzzing and playing the Super Mario Bros theme song. Max saw the two girls scoff in disgust as she dug the phone out and slid the answer button across the screen.

"Hello?" she asked as she stretched, popping her back.

"Max!" an all too familiar voice squealed.

"Hey Nudge," Max responded with a chuckle, her cheeks stretching in a grin.

"Are you off your plane?" Nudge asked with excitement evident in her voice. Max could easily picture the girl bouncing up and down, the pone wedged between her ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm in baggage claim," Max stooped down to swing her backpack up over her shoulder. "Are you here?"

"Yup," Nudge chirped. "I'm waiting outside. Now hurry up!"

"I'm coming," Max said as she hung up, slid her phone back into her pocket and grabbed her suitcase. Well, it was actually a really big duffel bag, but it was all the same in Max's mind. Max walked out of the airport, leaving the two teenagers behind her making rude and snide comments. She had to squint slightly as she stepped out into the sunlight, but her eyes quickly adjusted. As soon as they had, she saw a very enthusiastic Nudge waving to her wildly from the driver seat of her car. Max shook her head and headed over. The second her bags were thrown into Nudge's trunk, Nudge practically tackled her in a hug.

"Max, I can't believe you're home!" Nudge squealed, her face buried in Max's torso.

"Me either," Max said honestly as she hugged Nudge back tightly. Nudge finally let Max go and they both got into the car.

"Oh this is going to be so much fun," Nudge said as she bounced up and down, nearly slamming into another car on the highway.

"Watch the road Nudge!" Max yelped, desperately clutching the handle over the door.

"Oh it'll be fine," Nudge waved her hand flippantly and the car swerved.

"Nudge!" Max squeaked.

"What do you want to do this summer?" Nudge asked, finally calming down and bringing the car center in the lane.

Max released her death grip slightly and she responded with a sigh, "I don't know Nudge."

"Oh we should go get pedicures, and sunbathe, and go to the pool, and go scout out the cute college boys up in Ann Arbor, and…" Nudge went on and on. Max knew from experience she wouldn't be able to get in a word edgewise even if she wanted to, so she just let Nudge's motor mouth run its course. After a considerable amount of time, Nudge finally slowed down and asked Max, "So what do you want to do this summer?"

"Nudge, I've got an internship this entire summer," Max said with a sigh.

Nudge's eyes flew open wide and her bottom lip started quivering. "Whyyyyyyy?" she whined.

"I need a job to save up money and help pay the rent and food bills while I'm staying with you. Plus, I've got expenses back at California. I need this internship, Nudge," Max annunciated the word 'need'.

"But Maaaaaaaax," Nudge whined again. "I can't believe you flew all the way from California and you aren't going to do anything except work. All summer long. WORK!" Nudge enunciated dramatically.

"Yes Nudge," Max smirked. "And from what I understand you will be too."

"Doesn't count," Nudge waved her hand dismissively. "I'm working for your mom at the local diner. That HARDLY counts as work."

Max snorted. "It's still the same you know," Nudge said, shooting a look at her passenger.

"Of course it is," Max muttered, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice.

Nudge pursed her lips and she said the words that she knew Max hated hearing, "He'd be proud you know. Jeb would be –"

"Don't," Max interrupted tightly. "Don't go there Monique." Nudge flinched at her name and they were both silent. "I'm sorry," Max said softly, knowing that Nudge had a not so fabulous relationship with her name giver.

Nudge sighed and said, "So am I." The awkward silence that filled the car was suddenly broken by Nudge saying, "So you'll never guess who flew back in town three days ago…"

* * *

Max lugged her massive duffle bag up the stairs of Nudge's apartment complex. "Do you wanna help?" Max grunted as she got the bag up one more stair, her muscles straining painfully.

"Not really," Nudge said flippantly. "Besides, I'm carrying your big ass backpack over here. What do you have in here, cinder blocks?"

"Oh stop you big weenie," Max snapped as she gave an Olympic heave and got the bag all the way up. Max threw her hands up in the air and made a victory sign in triumph.

"I. Am. The. CHAMPION!" Max bellowed.

"Well, someone tell the champion to shut the hell up!" one of Nudge's apparently rather crabby neighbors shouted out.

"Oh shut up," Max yelled back, a rather self-satisfied grin on her face. She could just tell that this was going to be fun.

* * *

"So where am I going?" Max asked as she slid the duffel bag into the room.

"Down on the left," Nudge smirked. "And be warned, the walls are kind of… thin." Max blinked once. Twice. Annnnnd a third time before Max cringed with her face contorted in ways that Nudge didn't know was possible.

"Thanks," Max looked a little weirded out and Nudge did indeed take a little bit of some vindictive pleasure in seeing her best friend look like she just saw a disturbing image. Or you know, just imagine it. Whatever works. Nudge plopped Max cinderblock backpack onto the table which gave a groan of protest. Nudge crossed the apartment and flopped in a very not graceful like fashion on the couch, her legs stretched out on the coffee table. With a sigh of relief, Nudge closed her eyes and was just about to start working on her much needed nap.

Suddenly, there was a loud Beyoncé song blaring, though it sounded slightly muffled. Nudge squawked as she felt something vibrate under her butt. She tried to maneuver her phone out of her back pocket and somehow ended up all twisted up with her butt in the air and her face smashed into the couch cushion. However, her phone was held triumphantly up in the air, still ringing. She looked up with what she could only assume was a deranged look on her face because when she made eye contact with a perturbed looking Max who had just emerged from her new room, Max had an amusing facial expression. She was looking at Nudge with her mouth opened slightly in disbelief and what appeared to be a slight twitch under her right eye.

"Oooookay," Max turned around slowly and walked back into the room. Nudge rolled her eyes at her old friend's judgment and clicked answer.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hey Nudge, you doing anything tonight?" a garbled voice asked.

"Nah, my new roommate just flew in today and I don't think we're going out tonight. Sorry."

"Well what if we come over?"

"Yeah, I guess that'll work."

"7 o'clock okay?"

"Yeah sure. But bring food! Like, a lot of food!"

"Why do you sound more excited about the food than you do my company?"

"It's my not so subtle hint. I'd highly suggest you take it."

"Oh, you love me. What type of food does her majesty desire?"

"Hmmm…. Surprise me. Just bring a lot of it!"

"Nudge, you never change do you?"

"Why on earth would I change?"

"One would think you would bow to social convention."

"I'm holding out for what I care," Nudge said with a smirk.

"Seven o'clock, we'll be there with enough food to feed at least seven normal people with normal appetites. Get pumped!"

"I will do my best to contain the pure, never ending joy I'm feeling right now," Nudge said drily into the phone. A click and dial tone later and apparently that conversation was over. Nudge rolled her eyes and collapsed back on the couch, her face buried into a pillow with an aggravated groan.

"Are you done sticking your ass in the air?" Max's voice drifted towards Nudge, floating through the wafer thin walls of Nudge's apartment.

Nudge rolled her eyes and said, "Yes Max."

"Fabulous!" Max shouted. There was a loud, thundering sound and suddenly the couch was sagging and there was a warm, solid body lying on top of Nudge. "So what's on TV?" Max asked, looking around for the remote.

"Yeah, there's no TV Max," Nudge pointed out, well more like coughed out seeing as how Max was lying on top of her and crushing her lungs. "I had to choose between laptop or TV and internet or cable. Internet and laptop won out."

Max was quiet for a few moments longer before saying approvingly, "Wise choice, young padowan."

"Get off of me," Nudge huffed.

Max said, "Nope," as she snuggled closer to Nudge.

Nudge laughed as Max nuzzled into her shoulder. "Maaaaaax," Nudge groaned. "Off!"

"No," Max shook her head, her face still buried into Nudge's shoulder.

"Go sleep in your room," Nudge suggested, well more like ordered.

Max looked up at her finally, her bottom lip sticking out as she groaned, "But Nudge, it's all the way over there!"

"Oh get off and take your brick bag with you," Nudge said with a good-natured grin as she shoved max off of her and onto the floor. Max landed with an oof and felt all the air escape from her lungs as she connected with the ground.

"Fine," Max drew the word out so it was a good twelve syllables long. "But only because I'm fantastic."

"That you are my friend, that you are," Nudge said with a roll of her eyes as Max stumbled over to the table where her backpack was and then onto her new bedroom. It was simple, walls plain and unpainted and nothing hanging on them. The only furniture was a simple small bed pushed against the wall under the (slightly grubbier than Nudge cared to admit) window. There was an old rickety set of drawers that Nudge was pretty sure had at least three generations of spider families housed in the bottom drawer. And that was pretty much it.

Nudge was by no means wealthy. She barely scraped by on the tips she made at the old diner and that meant Ramen noodles for every meal. Nudge had just finished up her senior year in high school (about damn time she was done with that place) and as such getting a job was difficult. The fact that Nudge did not currently possess a car did not help matters at all. So while Nudge wouldn't ever admit it, she was incredibly grateful that Max was going to be helping out in the financial department. Maybe they'd be able to upgrade to Kraft mac and cheese or a delicacy of that nature.

Nudge rolled on the couch, her legs swinging over the sides of the arm rest and her gaze directed straight up at the celling. As she shifted, her phone landed on the old carpet with a soft thud. Nudge looked down at it and saw a new text from Iggy. She cracked a smile but made no effort to retrieve the phone. Iggy could wait. Lord knows he'd made her wait nearly two years before she'd even heard a word from him. He could wait a few freaking hours.

Iggy.

Iggy.

Iggy and Fang.

Fang and Iggy.

The two golden boys of Stone Greek. Well four if you counted Gazzy and Dylan, but Nudge never did. Probably because she never talked to either of them. It had always been Iggy and Fang to Nudge. Probably always would be. Damn that was a depressing thought.

"I missed you," Nudge whispered after Max, knowing she was too far out of ear shot to actually hear her. "Damn it I missed all of you. Assholes." Nudge punched the pillow closest to her angrily and she finally allowed her eyes to close to get that well deserved nap.

* * *

**Huh. Yeah. Funny story. It's been how long since I've updated? Yeah... whoops?**

**Hee Hee. Hee. Heh... **

**Well, read review and yell at me to all of your little heart's desire. I deserve it. Mostly. **


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